The Indomitable Martial King

With a single strike, the body of the magic swordsman was split from shoulder to waist. The sturdy armor, imbued with powerful magical protection and made with a mixture of adamantium, was shattered in one blow. The magic swordsman was torn apart, rolling on the ground without even a chance to scream.

“Ugh, ughihiik!”

One of the magic swordsmen standing behind made a strange groan in fear. At that moment, Malroid and Hadatoum leapt forward. Scattering blade aura, the three aura users began to launch brutal slashes towards the magic swordsmen.

The knights of the Principality of Chatan had undoubtedly high-level and expensive equipment.

How expensive? Perhaps around the price of one of the magical armor accessories used by Eusus.

Even if a magic swordsman was skilled, he was still just a magic swordsman. The legendary golden knight, known as the strongest magic swordsman on the continent, was at the level of an aura user, but these magic swordsmen didn’t even reach the toes of that golden knight. Meanwhile, there were no less than three proper aura users present.

They didn’t stand a chance.

In less than a minute, all the magic swordsmen of Chatan were lying in pools of blood. Unlike the mercenaries, these guys didn’t treat the slaves well and even killed their comrades. There was no reason to spare them.

As the magic swordsmen collapsed helplessly, the morale of the mercenaries plummeted.

“Ugh…”

“Even the knights were defeated…”

One by one, the mercenaries began to retreat. It was no longer surprising to see dwarves or orcs using aura. After all, they had heard that there were many such beings in the Duchy of Antares.

But what were the chances of encountering such beings themselves? All the mercenaries cursed their unlucky fate.

Relhard shouted from atop a tree.

“Surrender!”

The mercenaries hesitated, looking at each other. Relhard shouted again.

“Or if you want to flee, flee! We won’t chase you!”

The expressions of the mercenaries changed.

For knights, fleeing was a greater disgrace than surrender, but for mercenaries, surrender and fleeing held quite different meanings. Surrender meant irresponsibly abandoning the job, but fleeing was seen as doing one’s best but having no choice due to lack of strength.

Relhard, knowing this, shouted at the right moment, and the mercenaries began to flee one by one. Soon, no one was left except the merchants and the different race slaves.

From inside the carriage, Grad and the other slave merchants hurled curses.

“You bastards! How much did I pay you?”

“Irresponsible scoundrels!”

“Can’t you come back immediately?”

The faces of the shouting merchants were gradually covered by dark shadows. These were the shadows of the orc warriors with cold flames in their eyes. The merchants trembled like aspen leaves as they watched the slowly approaching orcs.

“Uuuu…”

Moments later, a desperate scream erupted from inside the carriage.

“Aaaaagh!”

* * *

Leading the elves, Relhard descended from the tree. As residents of the World Tree, their tree-climbing skills were exceptional. Relhard smoothly landed on the ground as if walking on flat land and looked around.

Apart from the injured mercenaries, no humans were left alive. As usual, several orcs and dwarves quickly climbed into the carriages. The caravan was not only transporting different race slaves but also a substantial amount of valuable goods and specialties.

Malroid spoke up.

“Everything except the food as usual?”

“Yes, as usual.”

Relhard nodded.

These people had been distributing all the valuable goods, except food, from the plundered caravans to the nearby impoverished human villages.

Of course, this wasn’t out of sympathy for the poor humans. Frankly, they didn’t feel sorry for them just because they were starving. The humans treated them like slaves, so they had no pity for them. Doing so would be seen as spineless rather than compassionate.

It was simply impossible to carry all those goods through the Daiman Terminal.

The Daiman Terminal was located in the heart of the wilderness. Even with the elite guards and aura users from the tribe, there were frequent monster attacks along the way. It was a treacherous path, not one to be taken lightly with heavily laden wagons. Moreover, they couldn’t clear the path by eliminating the surrounding monsters due to the need for secrecy.

“Since we can’t carry it all, it’s better to gain some favor this way.”

Kadamyte nodded, watching those unloading and repacking the goods. In fact, the Frisian Liberation Front was extremely popular with the poor people living near the Setellad Mountains.

True to the Principality of Chatan’s motto of valuing gold above all else, the wealth gap was the greatest on the continent. While other countries also had significant disparities between nobles, commoners, and serfs, it was particularly severe in the Principality of Chatan. There was even a joke that being an orc slave was better than being a poor person in the Principality of Chatan.

Thanks to the generous distribution of valuables, the commoners near the Setellad Mountains no longer saw orcs, dwarves, or elves as slave races. To them, these beings were like saints who took care of them. And this rumor was quietly spreading to other regions.

Malroid gave a wry smile.

“It pricks my conscience a bit… Saints, huh?”

“Well, it doesn’t matter, does it? The results are good anyway,” Relhard said with a gentle smile. Hadatoum tilted his head in confusion.

“Humans are strange. They’re so happy to receive things they can’t even eat.”

In the meantime, most of the items on the carriages had been repackaged. The Frisian Liberation Front had been active for about three months, always working together except when Hadatoum briefly left for a war. They were now preparing to distribute the goods to nearby human villages with practiced hands.

Suddenly, Relhard asked Kadamyte in a worried tone.

“But Kadamyte, isn’t it a problem if they find out we’re using aura?”

It was widely known that the different races in the Duchy of Antares could use aura. Kadamyte was particularly famous for being an aura user, having defeated the renowned Sir Tetsvalt, and many nobles had seen this scene through a video crystal. His aura color and appearance were well known.

They were wearing masks for a reason. If not careful, their connection to the Duchy of Antares could be exposed.

However, Kadamyte remained calm.

“The Savior said that if it’s urgent, just use it. Insisting will solve everything.”

“Is that really okay?”

“In a little while, it won’t matter because we won’t need to use aura anymore.”

“I see.”

Relhard nodded in understanding. Of course, Hadatoum still had a puzzled expression, as if saying, “What does that mean?”

While repacking the goods on the carriages, others were cutting the ropes binding the different race slaves. As the orcs, elves, and dwarves were freed from the ropes that firmly bound their necks and hands, they looked around in a daze.

Once everyone was freed, Talkata shouted loudly.

“Now, comrades! Let’s go to the land of freedom!”

But the reaction was as expected.

Although they had freed their comrades several times before, the reactions of the different race slaves were always lukewarm. They just couldn’t understand the situation and watched in fear, taking cues from their liberators.

There was no helping it.

These were people who had been enslaved for too long.

Their ancestors’ ancestors had been slaves.

‘It’s only natural that they can’t grasp freedom right away. Wasn’t I the same way?’

Having embraced the orc traditions from the Blue Bear Tribe, Talkata no longer saw himself as a slave to Repenhardt.

Of course, his loyalty to Repenhardt remained unchanged. Repenhardt had saved him and freed him from the shackles of slavery.

However, this loyalty was not that of a slave but of a free orc towards a mentor. It was a loyalty chosen and acted upon by Talkata’s own will. This difference, while seemingly subtle, was fundamentally significant.

‘Alright, it’s time to return to the Duchy.’

Just as Talkata was about to turn around, cheers erupted from behind him.

“Woohoo!”

“Freedom!”

“We’re no longer slaves!”

The freed slaves were hugging each other and shedding tears of joy. Orcs, elves, and dwarves alike were rubbing their newly freed hands and feet, reveling in their liberation. They had simply been too overwhelmed to react immediately.

“Oh…”

Talkata looked at them in confusion. Not only him but also Kadamyte, Malroid, Relhard, and Hadatoum were wearing similar expressions.

All the deeds they had done, all the rumors, had finally started to impact their fellow races across the continent. Those who once thought the life given to them was the best they could hope for and believed everything was fate and obediently complied were beginning to change.

Talkata blinked. A sense of pride filled his chest. His eyes felt warm for some reason.

The tears they shed in joy…

“Damn it, why am I getting teary-eyed like this…”

They were clearly the tears of those who understood freedom.

* * *

In the front yard of the Antares Royal Palace, under the intense early summer sun.

Standing in the middle of the yard, the third warrior of the Blue Bear Tribe, Tassid, shouted loudly.

“Russ! You are undoubtedly my true friend! I would not hesitate to lay down my life for you!”

On his massive, green, muscular shoulders, fighting spirit surged. Within the aura, Tassid drew his True Demon Sword, Dakar. The blade, sharp as a beast’s tooth, gleamed menacingly in the sunlight.

“But!”

An unmistakable killing intent burst forth from Tassid’s entire body.

“For now, I will forget our friendship!”

His eyes, filled with anger and hatred, focused on the human man before him, Russ. The tremendous killing intent was directed solely at him.

Woong!

With a booming sound, the turquoise blade aura surged along Dakar’s blade, shooting up as if to pierce the sky.

As he gazed at the unwavering, brilliant blade aura of Tassid, Russ’s expression hardened.

“Tassid…”

In a solemn tone, Russ called out his friend’s name. He then raised both hands. Russ too summoned his aura.

Whoosh!

Blue aura flared up like flames, wrapping around each finger and enveloping his hands entirely.

“I, too, hold friendship for you, but…”

Russ lowered his stance, his entire body taut like a beast ready to pounce. He calmed his gaze, eyes shining with conviction.

“I can no longer tolerate this….”

Tassid’s killing intent grew even more intense.

Killing intent! Such incredible killing intent!

However, this killing intent was strangely missing Russ. Although it flowed towards Russ, the precise target was not him.

Tassid directed his fierce killing intent towards the white, round object in Russ’s left hand, shouting furiously.

“In the name of our friendship, Russ! Get rid of that cursed thing right now!”

It was an object called soap…

“Just wash up, you orc! How can you possibly go a year without a bath!”

Summoning even more aura, Russ shouted back.

It had been just moments ago.

As usual, Russ and Tassid were sparring enthusiastically, honing their skills. And as always, after their sparring session, they were wiping their sweat with towels.

Russ suddenly made a face. The towel Tassid used had turned black as if it were a rag.

Russ, incredulous, asked.

“Tassid, don’t take this the wrong way and just answer. When was the last time you bathed?”

Tassid replied confidently.

“Last summer!”

Russ had a fit.

“Argh!”

He was dumbfounded. They hadn’t just been practicing swordsmanship but also engaging in hand-to-hand combat and grappling techniques, sparring almost like in real battles.

‘Have I been rolling around with someone who hasn’t bathed in over a year?’

Immediately, Russ ran to the kitchen and grabbed some soap. And that led to the current situation.

Orcs, who primarily led nomadic lives, always found water to be scarce and, therefore, rarely bathed. The rare springs they came across were precious water sources for the tribe to quench their thirst, not places for bathing.

As a result, most orcs abhorred the idea of submerging their bodies in water. Tassid was no exception.

Tassid shouted angrily.

“Are you trying to insult the son of the great plains!”

“No, I’m trying to get you to bathe. Hey! You could get sick!”

While bathing once a year might have been acceptable in the dry grasslands, the changed climate here necessitated frequent cleaning.